Jonah's arrival was abrupt. The scents hit him: wet earth, iron-rich blood, burning timber, and the sharp bite of something chemical and bitter, explosive residue.
Forest. Mud. Shouts in the distance. The air vibrated with tension, thick as the humid nights back home.
Then, the sound of someone approaching quickly.
A boy burst through the brush, maybe twelve at most, leaves tangled in his dark hair, his green flak jacket too big for his frame. He sprinted past Jonah until Jonah's hand shot out on instinct and grabbed the kid by the collar.
The boy yelped, twisting, kunai half-drawn.
But before he could strike, another shadow cut across the field. A Hidden Leaf ninja, not much older, kicked an enemy attacker into a tripwire. A buried trap clicked.
A flash. And then a deafening BOOM. Smoke and dirt erupted. The enemy shinobi vanished in the blast.
The boy stared, wide-eyed… then turned back to Jonah, stunned. "You—thank you!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You saved my life!"
Jonah blinked. "I… really didn't…"
He never finished.
His mind flicked, gears turning. He understood the language instantly. Not learned. Integrated. As if it had always been there. The realization stole his breath. It was part of the gift of the game. He could understand the most common language of any world he entered. That was useful.
The boy, still pumped with adrenaline, kept talking. "Look, this isn't a safe zone. My squad's regrouping. Just stay here. Don't wander. I'll come back for you!"
He didn't wait for Jonah to answer. He dashed toward the chaos, vanishing behind the trunks.
Jonah exhaled.
"Yeah," he muttered, glancing around the battlefield. "Sure. Stay put. Got it." He waited exactly four seconds. Then he moved.
He darted between trees with surprising stealth, not shinobi stealth, not yet, but something deeper. His Core processed terrain angles, wind currents, and environmental cues. Footprints, broken branches, the changing pressure of air—he mapped them automatically.
Scattered bodies littered the clearing ahead.
An enemy ninja lay slumped against a tree, neck twisted unnaturally. Jonah hesitated only a heartbeat. This wasn't something he wanted to do. But if he was going to survive…
He knelt beside the corpse. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
His fingers took a kunai in the man's right hand. Then swept it across the man's temple.
Patterns unfurled behind Jonah's eyes—like watching a symphony reverse-engineer itself. Neurons, chakra pathways, intent, training instincts… all laid bare. Sylar's gift, but without the hunger. Only comprehension.
And then, A spark. A current.
Chakra.
He could feel it. Understand it. Use it.
When he stood, he was stronger. Faster. Clearer.
He moved to the next body. Then the next. Not with bloodlust, never that, but with urgency, with the tightening coil of survival instinct. Each examination deepened his grasp of chakra control, basic molding, flowing, and release.
Then he found him.
A man with pale eyes, cracked open, staring blankly at the sky.
A Hyūga.
Jonah's breath hitched. He knelt, placing a hand gently at the base of the skull.
The world exploded.
Not literally—but in color. In shape. In lines of energy. He felt the Byakugan integrate, not as a stolen organ, but as a mastered concept. His Core wove it into his biology, rewriting his nerves, his vision, his brain's perceptual architecture.
The veins at his temples tingled, and he opened his eyes.
And saw chakra networks in every direction. He saw life, danger, and the mechanics of power itself.
"No more cutting people up," he breathed. "Good."
Battles roared in distant pockets of the forest some screams and explosions rattled the ground. Jonah didn't run from them; he slipped through them, unseen, absorbing everything. He helped where he could: a push here, a distraction there, a last-second interception that saved a young genin's life.
One Leaf chūnin lay dying beside a broken tree. Jonah knelt beside him, pressing a hand on the man's chest.
The chūnin stared weakly. "Take… the vest," he rasped. "Take the gear. Keep fighting… please."
Jonah swallowed hard. "I'll bury you. I promise."
He did.
By the time the fighting waned, Jonah wore the man's vest, his bandaged gear, his storage pouches. Not proudly. But with the quiet acceptance of someone who refused to waste a sacrifice.
"HEY!"
Jonah whirled.
The boy from earlier burst through the clearing, mud-splattered, exhausted, but alive. His relief turned instantly into frustration.
"You idiot! I told you to stay put!"
Jonah opened his mouth, but the boy grabbed his wrist and hauled him forward with surprising strength for a twelve-year-old.
"You're coming with me. Tsunade-nee wants to know how a random support chūnin ended up in the middle of the front lines!"
"…support chūnin?" Jonah echoed.
The boy shot him a bewildered glare. "Yeah? That's what your file says! Jonah Stone, logistics and auxiliary support. You're not even supposed to be near combat!"
Jonah blinked.
They gave me an identity.
Before he could process the implications, the boy tugged him through the wreckage, weaving between Leaf medics and wounded soldiers until they reached a forward operating base. There were tents, torches, and frantic movement everywhere.
Jonah's boots squelched in the mud as Nawaki dragged him into the forward operating base, the boy moving with the single-minded urgency of someone used to life-and-death moments. The camp bustled with frantic energy, medics rushing stretchers, shinobi barking orders, the crackle of burning trees just beyond the perimeter.
Jonah's senses, sharpened by his Core and newly awakened Byakugan, parsed it all instantly. The chakra threads weaving through dozens of ninja, the ebb and surge of pain and exhaustion, the subtle tremors beneath the earth from buried explosive tags—
It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and then everything froze.
Eighteen years old. Blonde hair tied in twin ponytails. Young, but already carrying herself like the world's weight was her sparring partner. Senju Tsunade.
Her brown eyes flicked over Jonah, first assessing, then narrowing. "Nawaki," she said, voice crisp with authority, "why are you dragging a chūnin through the mud like a sack of rice?"
"He wasn't where he said he'd be," Nawaki said quickly. "He ignored orders. And he was wearing a fallen shinobi's vest."
Jonah winced. Tsunade's gaze sharpened further. She stepped closer, and Jonah instinctively straightened. Not because she intimidated him, but because her presence demanded respect.
Her eyes locked onto his. "You're Jonah Stone, right?" she asked. "Logistics support? Auxiliary detail?"
Two seconds of silence.
His Innate Aptitude processed everything in those two seconds: the cadence of her voice, her emotional control, the sensory data from her chakra (dense, heavy, refined), Nawaki's subtle anxiousness behind him, the distant moans of the wounded, the hierarchy of the camp, and his own fabricated identity pulsing in the background like a spotlight.
"Yes," Jonah said finally. "That's me."
Tsunade stared a moment longer. "Then explain why you were in an active combat zone wearing a dead man's flak jacket."
Jonah drew a slow breath.
"I found him dying," he said quietly. "He asked me to take his gear. To keep fighting. I buried him."
It wasn't the whole truth. But it wasn't a lie.
Nawaki shifted, suddenly softer. Tsunade's jaw tightened slightly, not in anger, but in the way grief does when it wears a mask. She gestured to a medic tent. "Walk with me."
The tent smelled like antiseptic herbs and blood. Tsunade dismissed the medics with a nod and gestured for Jonah to sit on a crate while she opened a scroll.
She unrolled it on the table—Jonah's personnel file.
His breath caught.
The identity was detailed. Chakra signature data. Training records. Mission history. A photo of him in Leaf attire. A signature in foreign letters he didn't remember signing, but recognized as his own handwriting.
The Contest had been thorough.
Innate Aptitude analyzed the file instantly, forming an internal map of his backstory:
Chūnin rank (serviceable but unimpressive)
Specialization: support operations, supply coordination, field analysis
Zero notable combat achievements
Low chakra reserves (which his new abilities had already turned into a lie)
Assigned temporarily to Tsunade's medical forward division
Tsunade scanned the file, then him, then the file again. "You're not supposed to be in heavy combat," she said. "What the hell were you doing out there?"
Jonah hesitated—only long enough to be believable. "I was disoriented," he said. "I heard the explosions. I tried to help."
Tsunade's expression didn't soften, but something in her eyes shifted. "Next time," she said, "follow orders. The Second War has already taken too many kids."
"I'm not a kid, I'm twenty-five, older than you," Jonah found his voice after the shock of the place wore off.
Tsunade narrowed her eyes once more, "If I say you're a kid, you're a kid."
"I don't accept it, I'm older than you!" He insisted. While they were talking, he used his byakugan and examined her. He felt his strength and chakra increase steadily. "And stronger!"
Nawaki waited outside, arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when Jonah stepped out of the tent, the boy's eyes widened.
"Wow," he said bluntly. "She didn't punch you."
Jonah snorted. "Should I be grateful?"
"Yes," Nawaki said emphatically. "Very."
Then his curiosity broke through. "So what were you really doing out there? You moved weirdly. Not like a rookie, but not like a trained fighter either. And your chakra feels—strange."
Jonah stiffened.
He hadn't considered that. Chakra sensing wasn't Byakugan-specific; some ninja could feel fluctuations. Nawaki was a Senju; his chakra sensitivity was strong.
Jonah forced a shrug. "A special secret Jutsu of my family."
Nawaki didn't look convinced. But before he could press further…
A shout erupted nearby:
"Incoming wounded! Two critically injured!"
Tsunade was already running; she ran a little funny and rubbed her rear, and glared at him.
"I'll get you back for that later," She barked with a slight blush.
Jonah smirked, but then followed.
Inside the medic tent, two wounded shinobi were lying on cots. One is bleeding out from a severed artery. The other was poisoned, his chakra flow collapsing.
Tsunade barked orders. Medics scrambled.
Jonah froze. He could see it.
Not like normal vision, or X-rays, but as glowing channels and pulsing nodes, chakra pathways flickering like open circuits in the body.
He could see exactly what was wrong.
"This one's heart valve is ruptured," Jonah said before he could stop himself.
Everyone froze.
Tsunade snapped her head toward him. "What?"
He swallowed. "I…I can see his chakra system. It's… blocked. There's internal bleeding near the left ventricle. That's why the pressure is dropping."
Tsunade stared.
Then she ripped off her gloves and activated her chakra scalpel without a word. She cut exactly where he indicated, and her eyes widened when the severed artery spilled true.
She stitched with medical chakra, movements sharp and precise.
"Second one," she demanded, not looking up. "What's wrong with him?"
Jonah stepped closer. The pathways around the stomach flickered dark.
"Poison," Jonah said. "But not venom. Something synthetic. It's clogging the chakra around the solar plexus."
Tsunade gave a sharp order. "Bring me the green vial from the second shelf!"
Medics sprinted.
Jonah backed up, pulse racing. He hadn't meant to reveal so much. He didn't know if it was safe.
But he didn't regret it.
Not when both shinobi began breathing easier.
Tsunade finally turned to him.
"Jonah Stone," she said slowly, "how exactly do you know how to do that?"
His voice was steady.
"I just… understand things."
Nawaki's eyes widened. "Like a sensory kekkei genkai?"
Jonah didn't answer.
Because Tsunade stepped closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion and curiosity.
"You're coming with me," she said.
"Why?"
Her lips twitched.
"Because no support chūnin should be able to read chakra networks like a Hyūga."
Jonah already knew that she wasn't accusing him of being a Hyuga. His body took on different abilities, but Jonah asked that Sylar's ability be altered. He didn't want to take on any obvious physical changes using the ability. All Tsunade could see were his crystal blue eyes.
"I'm not a Hyuga; it's a different power altogether. I call it 'Innate Aptitude.' I think it's a bloodline-limit ability. My father told me that we had an ancestor…"
"Did I ask for your life story? Come with me!" Tsunade grabbed his arm and dragged him out.
That night, a map was laid across a field table. Shinobi leaders argued over troop movements, trap lines, and the incoming advance from the Hidden Rain.
Jonah stood behind Tsunade, quiet, still debating whether he should even be here. Tsunade pointed at a ridge. "If Hanzo's squad pushes from the east, we're exposed."
A jonin shook his head. "We have scouts." Jonah's eyes flicked open.
Byakugan.
He saw further. Deeper. Through the ridge. Through the mist. Through the treeline where chakra signatures pulsed like faint lanterns.
He swallowed hard.
"They're already there," Jonah said quietly.
The entire tent froze.
Tsunade turned. "Repeat that."
"Four squads," he said. "Two moving silently. One is laying traps. One waiting in reserve."
Nawaki leaned over the map. "He's right. That's exactly where Tsunade predicted they'd hit."
The jonin frowned. "Boy… how far can you see?"
"It's not about seeing, it's about understanding."
Tsunade smirked, "Then we move," she declared. "Jonah, you're with us."
"With you?" Jonah blinked. "Doing what?"
Tsunade rolled up the map, slinging it under one arm.
"Doing what you just did," she said. "You said you wanna help?"
Jonah's heart pounded. "Yes."
Her grin widened. "Good. Because you just became our secret weapon."